Wings
by mat528
Summary: After they are zapped to 1969 by the Weeping Angels, Martha discovers another way to "fly".


WINGS

**A/N: This is a Season Three story which popped into my head. It occurs during the period of the ep. "Blink". It involves Martha in a situation where she ingests a substance she would not normally take. **

**This story involves the use of a drug, so if you are uncomfortable reading this, don't read any further. BTW: A "fag" is a cigarette.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "Blink", nor do I own any recognizable characters, dialogue, or anything belonging to the BBC. I am making this story for fun, not profit.**

"So you're still tinkerin' with your timmy whinny device, then?" Martha Jones asked the Doctor one lazy Sunday afternoon in 1969. They had been in '60's London for almost a month after the Weeping Angels statues had zapped the pair back to the past. Martha's frustration with the Doctor was beginning to reach an all time high.

The Doctor worked on a small, red and white rectangular box with his sonic screwdriver for a moment before switching to a regular screwdriver to tighten a screw on its left side. He looked up briefly at his companion.

"Timey-whimey device," the Time Lord clarified. "It should correlate any and all data on timelines so that we'll be able to be present at any fluctuations."

Martha threw up her hands. She loved the Doctor to pieces, but his penchant for not explaining things to their natural conclusion was wearing thin. The would-be doctor resented being stuck like this, not being able to go anywhere or do anything. She hated that the technology she depended upon daily was either not available or so primitive that she couldn't avail herself of it.

"It'll help us _how_, Doctor?" she asked, exasperated.

The Doctor put down the regular screwdriver and regarded his companion. She seemed to be on edge these days for no good reason, in his estimation. But then, all of his human companions tended to be short tempered at the most inopportune moments.

He said, "it should be able to sense either a person or an object in our current timestream who would be able to provide critical assistance or information required to possibly get us back to 2007."

Martha was skeptical. The Doctor had said that several times during the month they had been there, and likewise had failed with each attempt to find some way to return them to the future. She wondered if she would ever see her family, friends, or hospital internship colleagues again. The Time Lord didn't seem to notice her upset. He'd been happy as a lark since they'd arrived, talking about attending the Woodstock concert or some other event, and talking about free love and the 1960's culture at large.

"Why don't you go on to work, or something?" he asked, trying to be a little helpful.

Martha glared at the Doctor. He wore an innocent expression as if to ask, "what did I do?"

"Doctor, today is Sunday. I don't _have_ any work," she pointed out. The Doctor pulled out his stopwatch and glanced down at the symbols etched upon it.

"Oh, Sunday already?" he responded, looking almost sheepish. "Crimey! Wasn't aware of that! Can't be helped, I suppose. Another week come and gone, and..."

"And you're no closer to getting us back!" the ebony skinned woman snapped. "I'm getting bored with this time period, and _you, _you're loving it!"

"Of course I love it!" the Doctor confirmed. "One of the best eras for music, culture, and social reforms you humans ever conceived! Of course, there were downsides, like the Vietnam War, multiple assassinations of key political figures, and race riots to name a few...."

Martha pointed at him. "Yeah, that's just what I'm driving at!" she shouted. "Ever since I was little I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to help people who were sick, have my own practice, maybe work with a life mate or something. But you know what? It's hard pretending to be your wife because people don't understand us living together without bein' married! It's difficult to get on and not be able to do what I was born to do because I am a female stuck in 1969 and the world isn't ready to embrace a woman doctor!"

The Doctor gestured with his long arms, trying to calm her down. "I know it's not easy for you, but why don't you see the bright side of this! Not many people your age can say they were in 1969," he started saying, then he amended, "weeell, actually, considering that you were born in 1982 not _any _can say that; but you have the unique opportunity to study humanity, especially hippies, up close! Some of them were quite the characters!"

"I don't _need _to be here to study them! There are quite a few of them in my time. They just don't dress the part anymore," Martha protested. The Doctor switched on the device, which emitted a low frequency hum.

"Oh, come on, Martha!" he chided. "You need to take the 'cup half full' side of things! Rose would have gone out, explored...gotten into something that would require the brilliant mind of yours truly to get her out of...".

Martha's eyes narrowed at the comparison of her to Rose, the Doctor's love. Her jealousy reached such epic proportions just then it was a wonder that she didn't turn green right on the spot. The Time Lord wasn't looking at her though; he was focused on the indicator on his timey-whimey device. He turned a dial this way and that, then peered at the indicator once more as though he was trying to get a feed.

Before Martha could retort, there was a knock on the door. The young woman opened it to see a man dressed in a psychedelic, v necked tunic with khaki pants. He had long, somewhat stringy brown hair with a little bit of grey running through it and sported a beard. There was a woman next to him, with a headband with a daisy in the middle, a blue tunic with a mess of beads over the top of it, and very long dark hair reaching down to her hips. She wore sandals with matching flowers on them. They both had glassy looking eyes and were rocking just a little, as though they were dancing to music only they could hear. The Doctor didn't say a word but wrinkled his nose.

"Hey, dudes," the man said, "sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any hash around."

The woman saw the device the Doctor was watching and commented, "Great box, man. Really groovy!"

When the Time Lord realized she was talking about his device, he murmured, "Thanks."

"Does that get Jimi Hendrix, and stuff?" she asked.

"No, afraid not," the Doctor responded. The woman's dazed expression changed to one of sympathy.

"Bummer," she said. She then changed the subject as she saw Martha's twenty-first century clothes.

"Hey, flower child, what are you wearing?" the woman asked. Martha looked down at her red leather jacket and her shirt.

"Oh, well...a family member gave me these," she answered. "He comes from the States. You know how different they are there."

"Far out!" the man said. "Say, you wouldn't be interested in goin' to a party on the grass in Londonshead Park, would you? 'Couple of my mates are getting together for a jam. We'd love for you to go, and your husband!"

"I would, but I promised that I'd get this thing running by morning, so I can't go," the Doctor said. When the couple's faces fell, he suggested, "but maybe my _wife _can."

Martha motioned to the Doctor, saying, "'Scuse us." She ushered him to a corner of the living room and whispered, "Are you some sort of nutter? I saw those blokes. They're higher than fifty kites in the sky!"

"I don't think it's _that _bad!" the Doctor said. "Besides, if you go to the concert, you can just listen to the music and not participate!"

At Martha's disbelieving expression, the Gallifreyan added, "Would give me time to perfect this device. I should have a reading we can use by the time you return."

Martha's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Okay," she said, walking back to the couple. "Let's go and hear your band."

"Groovy!" the woman said, linking her arm with Martha's. They went to the couple's apartment two doors down.

"What...?" Martha asked. The woman held out a sleeveless dress and a belt with huge circles connected by several circular, chain-like links.

_When in Rome..._Martha thought as she went in the back to change. She caught the scent of pot floating into her space and almost gagged. She thought about the Doctor and how she'd kill him when she got back from the outdoor concert.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The concert was in full swing as the couple danced on the lawn while some local talent played.

"Hey, Steve," one man said, "you got _two _plus ones?" His eyes raked over Martha and the woman in pure sexual heat.

"Nah," Steve said. "She's my neighbour." He held out a joint, but Martha shook her head.

Steve's wife commented, "I don't smoke as much as he does, either. Sometimes, I just sit back an' let the music take me flying." She removed some cigarettes from her pocket.

"That doesn't mean I don't smoke, though," she said, offering one to Martha. Martha took the cigarette. She had smoked upon occasion during summer breaks when she was at university, although she could take it or leave it. But she told herself just then that since the cig wasn't marijuana, one couldn't hurt. The woman lit up and Martha took one puff....

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The clock struck three as the Doctor paced inside the flat he and Martha lived in. "Where is she?" he asked no one in particular. Just then, he heard a thump at the door.

"Martha?" he asked. He heard another thump and opened the door to admit his companion. She had on her neighbour's orange, sleeveless dress with the gold belt around her shapely middle. A band was in her hair, pulling it back.

"Oh, hi, doc!" Martha said, giggling. The Doctor gently tugged her inside.

"You look somewhat worse for wear," the Doctor pronounced, searching through his pockets. Martha slowly waved him off, spinning around a little.

"Nope, nope, nope," she said, leaning slightly into him. "I've never felt better."

"I thought you were just going to listen to the music," the Time Lord said. His hands searched through his pockets.

"I did," she said. "Amazing...all the colors I saw at the same time."

"Yeah, well," he said, "smoking hashish will do that to you."

Martha turned a slightly glassy eyed stare on him. "I only copped a fag, not a joint," she quibbled.

The Doctor put on his glasses and regarded her with a stare. "Weelll," he countered, "if what you're saying is true, then someone slipped one to you, disguised as a cigarette. Possibly the THC was ground into the tobacco stick."

"Huh?" Martha asked dumbly.

"T-H-C, otherwise known as delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol, the main active chemical in marijuana," he responded. The Doctor pulled out a huge white tablet and went into the kitchen. Running some water in a glass, he dropped the pill into the container and handed it to Martha.

"Now, be a good companion an' drink all this down," he instructed. "Should have you sorted out in seconds."

Martha held up the glass, then stared at the Doctor. "What is it?" she wondered aloud.

"Amazing cure all," he answered. "Doesn't just work for Time Lords but for many species of like origins including humans. Can't vouch for the taste, but it really is fantastic, to coin a word. Omega developed it, not that you know who that was, but he was brilliant as far as cure alls before he went barmy."

His companion blinked during his dissertation, then said, "You've got some beautiful eyes, you know?"

The Doctor fought an inward chuckle. He wondered if Martha would remember her positively goofy behaviour. "Come on, Martha Estelle Jones," he said. "Drink. As your personal physician in this case, it's the best medicine I can prescribe."

Martha started downing the white liquid, and then took the Doctor's round face in her hands. She kissed him loudly, smacking him fully on his lips. The Doctor's gob was wide open as she drank the liquid.

A moment later, she handed the glass back to the Time Lord, commenting, "Oi! That tastes worse than horse dung! Was Omega trying to cure you all, or _kill_ you?"

The Time Lord smiled, saying, "Welcome back, Martha!"

Martha winced, touching her temple. "Not so loud, Doctor!" she whispered.

"Sorry," the Doctor responded in his normal voice, "but sometimes other species can get headaches. Results of the synapses in the brain trying to coagulate since marijuana use can have an adverse impact on memory and motor skills, to name a few. No cure for your pounding, I'm afraid. You'll have to endure it. Don't want to introduce another foreign chemical substance into your bloodstream."

Martha went to lie down as he continued. "You should consider yourself lucky that you only smoked the one cigarette and incurred minor effects. Some humans and humanoids never recover from the effects of marijuana," he commented. Martha nodded her agreement, promising inwardly that she would never smoke again in her life.

A few minutes passed before the Doctor spoke again. Martha could feel her headache subsiding.

"By the way, I found something," he said. "Hopefully, you're feeling well now. Might want to change your clothes, then we can take a stroll to the parking lot section where the temporal disturbance that brought us here took place."

"Why?" Martha asked, going into the bedroom to change her clothes. She closed the door as the Doctor stood on the opposite side.

"We're meeting someone named William who is due here in about fifteen minutes," he reported. "That one can give us all the tools we need to get back!"

"Far out!" Martha said, smiling. The Doctor chuckled. She came outside in her normal clothes and together, with the timey whimey device firmly clutched in the Doctor's hands, they went to meet Billy.

THE END


End file.
